


Let's Have a Ball!

by MistyBeethoven



Series: Strange Couchfellows [27]
Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Disguise, Dogs, Gen, Kissing, Lizards, Masks, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, New Year's Kiss, New Years, Partying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:42:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21956089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyBeethoven/pseuds/MistyBeethoven
Summary: John Wick and the Administrator ring in the New Year at Times Square. However, when a fellow assassin gets a hold of and threatens the Administrator it is up to John to save the prickly little bureaucrat!
Relationships: Administrator & John Wick, Administrator & John Wick's Unnamed Dog, John Wick & John Wick's Unnamed Dog
Series: Strange Couchfellows [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1374988
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Let's Have a Ball!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SamuelCyanide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamuelCyanide/gifts).



> This is dedicated to the dazzling XxSammehhXx. You have supported these from day one also. Infact, you were the first person that ever subscribed to me, I think. I see you silently supporting so many writers on AO3 and you deserve thanks and gratitude. I hope this shows it in some small way.

Sending out the old year properly and bringing in the new one hardly interested the Administrator. All years seemed very much alike as he sat day in and day out behind his large desk in the Administration building. He could barely find it noteworthy to celebrate the simple changing of a date or eventual addition of a simple number to his age. Of course, this had been before he had found and cared for the on-the-lam assassin known as John Wick. This had led to him eventually letting the man permanently reside on his couch.

The year he was saying goodbye to this time had been a stressful thing and the one that he was welcoming seemed potentially exasperating as well.

So was life with a wanted excommunicado, fugitive hitman as a roommate, the Administrator thought to himself quite often.

Still John seemed somewhat looking forward to the New Year; a fact first hinted at when he purchased a new calendar (one featuring a series of nauseatingly cute puppy dogs) and secondly when he suggested they go to Times Square to see the ball drop. 

The Administrator had looked at Wick like he had lost his mind. It was an expression he was getting quite used to wearing these days as his roommate became more and more reckless regarding where he chose to be seen in public together with him. Times Square at New Year's was his most brazen suggestion yet and the bureaucrat shot it down faster than the ball fell from the Square One Building at midnight.

"Somebody will see us," the Administrator stated as he peered into his bowl of noodle soup.

"No they won't," John Wick countered not using his noodle in his companion's opinion.

The bureaucrat sighed. "Why won't they, pray tell?"

John Wick opened his mouth to reply but no answer would come out.

* * *

The next day, New Year's Eve to be precise, when the Administrator arrived home from work he found John standing in the living room with an item in his hands.

"What is that supposed to be?" the High Table pencil pusher asked completely baffled.

"A mask," John answered and to illustrate the point held it over his handsome bearded face.

"Let me guess," the Administrator stated placing his brief case on the floor. "So we can go to Times Square?"

"Exactly," the man behind the mask said and to his credit, the bureaucrat knew that with the mask on he would not have been able to tell for sure that it was John Wick if he had not seen him put it on beforehand.

Not looking forward to spending the night listening to the assassin complaining if he insisted on saying no, the Administrator surrendered and shortly thereafter found himself smack dab in the center of Times Square with a masked John Wick.

And a dog which was similarly wearing a mask.

"That dog is a dead giveaway," the bureaucrat whined.

"How can he be? He's wearing a mask," Wick argued.

The Administrator gave up, knowing it was pointless to argue against someone who had actually placed a mask on his own dog's snout.

The assassin looked around Times Square at the revelers but seemed somewhat disappointed. "Where's Dick Clark?" he suddenly inquired.

"He's dead!" the small man bluntly replied.

"But they told me he was ageless and immortal," the tall man bemoaned.

"They lied," the Administrator returned. "The only way he's showing up is if 'The Walking Dead' suddenly becomes reality."

John Wick looked slightly more hopeful at this: if anybody was likely to survive a Zombie Apocalypse it would definitely be him. The Administrator sighed, knowing that he, on the other hand, would be liable to be one of the many who ended up dead; probably at the hands of other survivors more than by the undead themselves, to add insult to injury.

"I guess that means I should stop waiting for Ed Macmahon to show up at the door with sweepstakes winnings," John said and the other man could not tell if he was joking or not.

"Nope," the bureaucrat confirmed in any case.

As the party grew more louder and the partygoers became more drunk, the Administrator noticed in horror that their raucousness was having a bad effect on the mask that his companion was adorning. The vibrations from the noise of the crowd and the bass from the band was causing the mask to fall apart; it was hanging off of the assassin's face and dangling precariously from his left ear.

"Where did you buy that crummy thing anyway?" he asked John Wick loudly.

"I made it!" John shouted back offended.

"Oh," the bureaucrat exclaimed.

It explained a lot.

"I'll go find some Scotch tape," John Wick informed and left with his dog.

The Administrator watched him go, not bothering to tell the man that he was more likely to find a bottle of Scotch than the adhesive he was after.

Shortly after the hitman's departure, the bureaucrat felt something hard press into his back and was grateful to look over his shoulder and discover that it was a gun and not something belonging to a drunk and amorous celebrator at Times Square.

"I saw you weeth John Week," the assassin, whom was holding the gun and looked and talked a lot like Peter Lorre, accused.

"How did you know it was him?" the Administrator asked. "When the mask fell off?"

"No. Thee dog," the Lorre wannabe informed.

The bureaucrat sighed as his abductor grabbed him and pushed him forward through the crowd.

* * *

Evading the police and the barricades, the malevolent assassin led the pencil pusher to the top of the Square One building where the New Year's Eve ball was waiting to make its descent. The Administrator watched as it shone above the head of the Peter Lorre imitator. It was a massive thing: 12 feet in diameter and weighing 11, 875 pounds. The Waterford crystal triangles sparkled, catching the lights of Times Square and making them subsequently dance all about them.

"So..." the assassin said, aiming his gun at the Administrator's sleek and pierced head. "You've been harboring John Week all of theees time. Thee High Table will pay me much muuunneey for theees information...ha...ha. They would pay mee eeeven more if I had John Week though."

The bureaucrat's throat clenched as he realized he cared more for the Baba Yaga's life than he did his own. It was a horrible thought to end both the year and his life having.

"Weee wheel wait right here for Week to come and rescue you...ha...Haaaa.," the creepy assassin announced.

They weren't waiting for very long.

John Week...I mean Wick...suddenly dropped the New Year's Eve ball, riding it all the way down until it landed right on the Peter Lorre impersonator. His mission completed, and the other assassin squashed under the 11 ton ball like he was an ant under a weightlifter's boot, John effortlessly hopped off of the orb and hit his hands together proudly at a job well done.

"How long were you up there?" the Administrator asked in grateful surprise. 

"For a while," the hitman confessed. "I was surveying the area for Scotch Tape. I saw him bringing you here and knew what I had to do."

The servant of the High Table smiled bashfully at his rescuer, at a loss for words.

"There's just one thing I'd like to know," Wick stated his face filled with curiosity.

"Y-yes?" the Administrator asked.

"How old were you when your balls dropped?" John Wick asked in serious earnestness.

The bureaucrat suddenly found himself wishing that he'd been standing beside the other assassin when the New Year's Eve ball had fallen on top of him.

* * *

When the ball had prematurely come speeding down to the ground, everyone in Times Square had mistaken it for having turned midnight and they all started to latch on to their date, or the nearest available mouth, and began to kiss passionately. John Wick, the Administrator and Dog weaved out of the myriad of couples furiously making out in a year which had not changed. They successfully avoided security as they walked back to their apartment where Toby greeted them blandly before scurrying off.

The two men plopped down on the couch. The younger of them held his head in his hands in exhaustion as the clock chimed loudly, declaring that it had finally turned into the next year; for real this time

"I didn't get my New Year's kiss," Wick stated sadly and the Administrator raised his head to find John staring at the floor dejectedly and pouting.

The bureaucrat watched as John Wick's dog, as if on cue, jumped up on the couch and happily fulfilled his master's request.


End file.
